The Confession
by Ccuriouser
Summary: She had to confess, before the secret drove her mad. The question was—how would he take it? [Not exactly cannon, I have twisted some plots.] HG/SS, HEA as always. Warning: Slightly M rated scene at the beginning.


**_I know I should be writing_ Curing Scars. _But this plot just wouldn't stop bitting on my fingers until I have written it down. So, there you go. Enjoy :)_**

…

"Oh Gods! Severus!" The young witch collapsed down to the sweaty scarred chest, body twisted from the intense orgasm. Her dark brown curly hairs dumped with sweats, falling over her back like a waterfall. The man beneath her thrusted into her deep and hard a couple times until reaching his own end with a deep growl.

"Merlin…Granger." He groaned when she lifted herself up and slide down to his side. The friction of his softened member rubbing against her walls sent a new set of shivering down her spine. She smiled lazily and playfully kissed his shoulder.

"That good, hmmm?"

His answer was to pin her to the mattress and kissed her till her toes curled. Her eyes were glazed, and her body was arched up when he let go of her with a satisfied grin. The kind of grin that made him look young and almost boyish. The kind of grin that he showed only in the privacy when he was with her. The kind of grin that made her want to kiss him and murmured how much she loved him.

And that was the problem—

Severus Snape didn't know—

 _Hermione Granger was in love with him._

And after involved in a sexual relationship with him for a year and being madly in love with him for even more than that, she felt like she could not take it anymore. She had planned to confess for more than a week, pondering over and over what to say to express her feelings. But now, with his eyes looked down at her with an edge of softness, she got cold feet.

Hermione reached out and drew his head down for a tender kiss, nose nuzzling against his.

 _Maybe it was better this way._ She thought with a bitter sting on her heart. _Never really had him, but at least she wouldn't lose him._

…

She was quieter than usual, her head rested on his shoulder, fingers drawing lazy circles on his skin. It has been like this for over a week.

He figured he knew what was going on. That his fear was about to come true—she was about to leave him. And she was trying to find a way to let him down gently.

It would be a lie if he said he didn't expect this. He came to term with the inevitable ending of their…relationship a long time ago. _Can it really be called a relationship?_ What he didn't expect was the unbearable pain that was slowly eating him away with every passing minute, when he waited for the end, waited for her to say the words. Yet he would endure anything for as long as she was willing to stay.

And to think, it began with such a tiny mistake…

…

 _1998, the Forest of Dean_

 _He watched the Potter boy following his Patronus to the lake._

 _Thanked to the boy's foolishness that led him to follow an unknown Patronus without a single doubt, he didn't need further involvement in the matter. Yet watching the elegant doe leading the young boy toward where he hide the sword, he couldn't help but felt that it was not him that was guiding the boy._

 _It was Lily guiding her son._

 _And it should be Lily, if not for his idiocy._

 _The familiar ache of guilt consumed him, his attention waver. That split second of distraction was all it took for him to miss the approach of another person. It was too late when he felt the point of wand stuck to his back._

 _"Aperacium." A slightly shaking female voice revealed the identify of his intruder and he relaxed, feeling his disillusionment charm dropping off like water flowing down his body. He could still easily Obliviate her without drawing any attention. But it was a perfect chance for him to give them a nudge toward the Shell Cottage. It won't do them good hiding in a forest like this. The werewolves would find them like bees finding flowers. He slowly turned around, ready to wandless cast the memory alter charm._

 _"Professor?" Hermione Granger spoke again, but this time from behind a tree, her person nowhere to be seen. He narrowed his eyes._

Invisible cloak and sound-relocate spell, he really should give her some credit to her intelligent.

And a magical trap. _He recognized the silver shimmering around his feet, any attempt of magic he made would trigger the defense response._

 _Impressive indeed. Though he knew the counterspell for this, he decided to play along, just to see how far they have gotten in the mission._

 _"Miss Granger." He stood with his hands resting harmlessly by his side, but his senses were hypersensitive in finding the location of the girl._

 _"Oh thank Merlin, it is really you." To his surprise, the girl revealed herself after hearing his voice. She rushed toward him. "We need your help."_

…

Until today, he still hasn't asked how she had figured out his true side.

The answer didn't matter.

Just like she never asked why he chose to help her instead of obliviating her. Hell, not even he knew the answer to that. But he highly suspected it was the trust and hope that lit up her eyes when she ran to him that day. Those beautiful bright brown eyes had caught him in their webs since then.

Being a smart witch who knew her friends, she never told Potter and Wesley about her collaboration with him until the war had ended. Being the brain of the Golden Trio, her ideas were never questioned by the other two. He had helped them destroyed all the Horcruxes and had taken Hermione's advice to lure the Dark Lord and his army to Hogwarts using Harry as a bid.

The night before the plan was carried out, after Potter was secretly transported into the castle, she showed up in his office through the secret tunnel and proposed something that has shocked him to the core.

…

 _1998, Hogwarts._

 _He had come clean to Minerva with the help of Hermione. They had planned the scene of him being forced out by the elder witch so that he could retain his cover._

 _"Professor, I am scared." Hermione said in a quiet voice after Minerva had left. Sitting at his living room couch, she seemed smaller than ever, her warm chocolate eyes full of uncertainty and fear. "I thought I am ready for this, but I am not." She has curled up under the blanket, hands nursing a cup of tea without drinking it._

 _"No one is ready for such thing. This is what you call war, Miss Granger." He was standing by the fireplace, a glass of barely-drank firewhiskey in hand. He has dropped most of his guard down around her, finding no need in keeping up the guise. Though he was nowhere a good comforter, he tried his best to provide support._

 _Hell only knew not even him was ready for what would happen tomorrow. But you didn't step into a war worrying about tomorrow. Besides, there was never a bright future waiting for him after the war._

 _But for her it was different, she still had the chance for a new beginning after all these madness had finished. And he would try his best to make sure that happens._

 _He frowned and put down the glass. Since when did he care about the girl so much?_

 _"Hermione." She whispered. He turned to look at her, but she was staring at the tea cup in her hands. Brown curly hairs were framing her face, firelight dancing along her skin, highlighting the faint blush on her cheeks. At that very moment, she looked bloody beautiful to him, so fragile yet strong, like a diamond. "Please, Professor, call me Hermione."_

 _"I don't think this is appropriate, Miss Gran…" He started, only to be cut off by a firm shake of head._

 _"Appropriate be damned." She looked up at him with a determined look on her face. "We may all die tomorrow, and I want to leave as few regret as possible behind. Please, call me Hermione. Severus."_

 _Hearing her voice uttered his name stirred something deep inside his chest, something he thought he has long forgotten. He turned away from her._

 _"Very well, Hermione."_

 _Silence stretched between them. A strange tingled sensation climbing up his spine, like when he was monitoring an explosive potion, knowing there were bubbles hidden beneath the stilled surface, waiting to burst out._

 _"I am still a virgin." Her voice rang beside him. He turned abruptly, startled by her proximity and what she said._

 _"Mis…Hermione. It is late. You need to rest before tomorrow." Tomorrow, it was all about tomorrow, the closure was looming on the horizon and the waiting was driving people crazy._

 _Nothing more could be done but wait._

 _No matter how much he wanted this to end, they had to wait. Wait till the sun was up, till the nocturnal Death Eaters were at their weakest. He was well-familiar with waiting and how it would do to one's mental, but he wouldn't let it control him, nor her. "You don't know what you are doing."_

 _"No, I won't be able to sleep. Not with all this stress." She rested her hand on his elbow, urging him to turn to her. When he didn't move, she sighed and moved in front of him. Those expressive brown eyes seemed to look into his soul. "Severus, I don't want to die a virgin."_

 _He closed his eyes and sighed mentally, knowing what he needed to do. Opened his eyes, he gently brushed a string of her unruly hair behind her ear. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and she was looking at him with such a hopeful expression that his heart twisted. "Hermione…_ Dormitabis."

 _The young witch fell into his arms, soundly asleep._

...

He had altered her memories of the evening to spare her humiliation. She probably just wanted to lose her virginity to someone with more experience, which unfortunately made him the only option at that time.

Still, when Nagini descended upon him to take his life, when the time seemed to stretch to infinity in front of him, his thoughts were not on Lily, not on the sins that darken his hands, not on the painful memories of his youth, but on the moments he spent with the curly-haired young witch after she came to him at the Forest of Dean. And he had pondered—while the giant snake sank her fangs into his neck—what if he took her up the offer, gave himself a chance to feel something real before he died.

 _But he didn't die._

She had saved him using the antivenin he had prepared for them and transported him to Madam Pomfrey, the only one other than Minerva who knew the truth of him.

 _Her teary brown eyes were the most beautiful thing he knew._

Letting out a long breath, he gently picked up her left hand and placed kisses on her fingertips.

 _Would she leave him today?_

…

She couldn't interpret the look he gave her when he lazily kissed over each of her fingertips, but it made her heart ache.

 _She wanted to claim him._

This wizard who had so many dark pastes hunting him yet still stood straighter than anyone else; this wizard who had hands that could cut potion ingredients like a surgeon, that could casted the darkest curses, that were so gentle when they landed on her body she felt like she was being worshiped; this wizard who snarled and snapped at everyone else but grinned at her like a boy when they were in bed.

She had thought it just a schoolgirl crush before—the seemly insane impulses to kiss him. She didn't act on it. She had just tentatively built up a sort of friendship with him after the war; she would not let some stupid impulses ruined it. Then he left to travel around Europe after the school had back in order and Minerva had found a good candidate to take over his job.

They wrote to each other when he was aboard. In response to her request for a postcard for the places he went to, he sent her postcard with no words and no location information on it. She would get another postcard only if she figured out where he was from the last postcard. It was just a fun game between friends, she had thought. But one day Ginny caught her smiling _lovingly_ at his letter and postcard, and asked her if she got herself a boyfriend. She had brushed it off as Ginny's imagination. Until one of his letter mentioned a rather good-looking and friendly French witch who invited him to her home, and she found herself driven crazy by jealousy and desperation. So when he came back for the Christmas Party at Hogwarts, she took her chance.

…

 _"Severus, you make it." She greeted him with a calmness she didn't think she processed, pretending she didn't just rush across the whole great hall upon seeing him. Trying hard to not blush when his dark eyes rested on her with appreciation, taking on the crimson dressing robe she that hugged her curves just right._

 _"I won't come if not for Minerva's sake, she was rather persistent." He took over the glass of elf-made wine she had handed him and took a sip, looking around the crowded hall with his usual distaste._

 _"Come now, Severus, don't you miss your friends?"_ Miss me, _she wanted to say_ 'don't you miss me?' _but bit it back._

 _"How's your trip?" She picked up a random topic, giving herself time to study him closely. She didn't realize how much she had missed until he was here, standing in front of her. Her gaze eagerly gliding through him, wanting to mark every detail in her memory._

 _Getting away from the castle had really done him some good. He seemed more relax than she ever remembered him to be. The dark dressing robe framed his lean body in the most delicious way, she found her mouth went dry. The impulsion to kiss and touch him was back, strong and fierce, ridding all the thoughts of reasons. The hollow ache that had occupied her chest ever since he left deepened._

 _"Now, now, Hermione, and here I thought you read all my letters before replying them." His face was blank, but his tone was teasing and there were laughters hidden in his eyes. She huffed, feigning annoyance, and took a long sip of her champagne._

Merlin, how she missed him.

 _From there they talked well into midnight at their quiet corner, no one dare to come interrupt them for fear of Severus's anger, and it worked just fine for her. They talked about his travel, the new potion ingredients he had obtained. They talked about her job at the Ministry, the lives and rights of other magical beings. Her heart was pounding hard all the time, the scheme she planned running through her mind again and again, like a out-of-control Ferris wheel._

 _Close to midnight, she started to feel the effect of all the alcohol she consumed to boost her courage, and she found herself leaning to his strong body, being guided toward the exit._

 _"Where are we going?" She murmured into his robe, inhaled his scents deeply._

 _"Your apartment, I trust you have hang-over potion at home?" His voice was deep, she could feel the vibration in his chest._

 _"Hmmm." She answered eloquently, the truth was she couldn't remember. Her head was spinning and she felt like walking on the clouds._

 _Only one thought was clear in her mind—she wanted him._

…

She couldn't record clearly how all that happened. The only memory she had was how she forced him down the sofa and attacked him with kisses.

The next morning, she woke up with him sleeping next to her.

It was a year ago. Now she wanted more with him, wanted a future with him.

"Severus." She pushed herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. He rested their combined hands on his chest and raised his eyebrow. His face was a stone mask, and all the tenderness was gone. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Yes?" He asked quietly, a strange tension suspending in the air. She felt like she was walking on this ices, every step could be the step that killed her.

"I have something I need to tell you." Her heart was beating so fast, hammering against her rib cage, she could barely hear her own voice.

…

 _So this is it_. He sensed his mental walls slowly raising up and blocked all his emotions. A false calmness rushed through him. No doubt there was a thunderstorm roaring behind those walls, but he couldn't feel them, not yet. Not before her. He had determined to let her go when the time came. No bagging, no praying, no trying to change her mind. Lily had taught him one thing at least—they all left, eventually.

Her eyes, those bourbon color eyes were looking down at him, making him drunk just by looking into them.

He waited.

…

He looked so distant. His eyes were lifelessly black. His body was rigid. But his hands were softly caressing hers.

She felt her courage slipping away from her like sands sliding through fingers. Time stretched between them, thinning the air. She found herself unable to breathe, cold sweats covering her skin.

She thought of the first time her parents brought her to skydiving. She remembered standing by the open gate, her heart pounding madly, her legs shaking like she was on a boat that was suffering a storm. Adrenaline made her throat tight.

It felt almost the same, the pre-state before a leap of faith. The difference was—that one she knew she would be alright, this one, this one could kill her.

"Hermione, breath." His hand was warm against her cheek, she let out a sudden breath, chocking. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath.

For a brief moment, she felt her courage came back. Unable to look at his emotionless face any longer, she buried her face on his neck and murmured to his ear.

"I love you."

Silence. Unbearable silence.

Then she was pinned to the mattress by his strong yet lean body. His breathing was ragged. Those dark eyes of his bore down on hers, this time with an emotion hurricane within them.

"What did you say, Hermione?" His voice was soft with an edge of something close to desperation. His hands were holding her face, gentle but with enough force so that she couldn't turn her head away.

He looked so beautiful and vulnerable at this moment. It took her breath away.

…

"I love you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he had heard it clear enough.

The bed were shaking, or was him? He couldn't tell. So many emotions were breaking through his walls, crushing against his brain, he could hardly think. All he could think of was her—this beautiful, intelligent, bright little miracle—said she loved him.

 _Loved._

 _Him._

He crushed her soft body against his, nose buried in her messy curls. He felt like draining, so he gulped for air.

"I thought….you were leaving me." Was this his voice? So rough and shaking like a dying man. He tasted salts on his tongue. Was he crying?

"No, I am not leaving you." Her voice, her sweet voice was raw with emotion. He realized she was crying, too. "I plan to stay for a very long time. If you would let me."

"Stay. Don't leave. I will do anything." The answer was chocked out, broken.

When she kissed him through their combined tears, he felt reborn.

 _Again._

…

 ** _I am not quite satisfied with the idea of this story. But like I said, the plot kitten keep biting and mewing until I patted and fed her. (wink)_ **

**_Please review and let me know how do you think about this one!_ **


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